One of the biggest regrets of my life is all the time I’ve wasted in therapy waiting for my therapist to explain me to myself and not get it all totally wrong. It’s strange, looking back, how obvious it the answer was, and I’d really like to save a few other people from making the same mistakes I’ve made.
I found myself inexplicably crying while I read the verdict in the Ghost Ship fire. I didn’t know any of the victims but I’ve been to parties like that in San Francisco, held in illegal warehouses, not up to code, people living there illegally.
When I die, I think my children will know the right spot in the forest for me. They will invite everyone they know. People they don’t know will appear, some of whom I haven’t seen in decades. They will all join together in digging a great pit. It will not be easy, but they will take turns.
This is part three of my review series on The White Goddess. You can find part one hereand you can find part two here.
If you haven’t read part one of my series analyzing this great masterpiece, here is a link to the first chapter.
I’ve read The White Goddess so many times the lines evoke memories and emotions to me like bible verses or Princess Bride quotes. Over the years I’ve tried to get dozens of friends and lovers to read this thing so I will have someone to talk to about it, but apparently the wordy obscurity of it is a bit too much for most people. Personally, the prose is dense in a mesmerizing way, like a holy text somehow engineered to plug into my individual neurological DNA. I would blindly offer my hand in marriage to anyone who reads this thing and forms some interesting opinions about it, but so far no takers.